Second Chances
by Bramblelegs747
Summary: A smile is a perfect shield. It lets people believe that nothing is wrong. What if that one person that everyone picks on finally cracks?what if there's another that notices changes?And she's made it clear she won't let him face it alone. America/Belarus


People think me to be an idiot, a moron, a _filthy pig._ I don't think any of them seem to think of just how much I try to make everything better, and always end up the bad guy in someone's eyes. Maybe I'm beating myself up on this one, or maybe I've finally gone insane. I just try so hard, and even when things do turn out good I'm _still_ ridiculed. I'm allowed to not get along with people sometimes, _right?_ I'm_ allowed_ to have weaknesses, right? It sure doesn't seem like it...

I don't think people remember that _I_ did not want to be apart of World War One _or_ World War Two. _I_ was asked to help because the Allies believed they were done for. _I_ was their trump card that they believed would win their war. I had my battles and lost people, and I hardly think anyone even understands just how much I hurt at the thought of it. Maybe that's why I spent so much money on weapons and extras, because I didn't want _my_ people getting hurt.

_But isn't that what it's always been like for me?_ I'm a country born from _war_. I fought at the age of 15 for my freedom, _what kind of childhood is that?_ And guess what, I've been fighting ever since. I call myself a hero in front of all those that believe me to be dirt. But what if they knew what was really happening to me?

It turns out I'm a stubborn ass, and don't want help. Instead I want to get my problem under control on my own. But I think it's taking it's toll. The only time I ever eat anymore is when it's absolutely necessary. I've lost 20 pounds since; and still I push myself to continue to work on my body. I fear I'm going about it the wrong way, but something in me doesn't seem to care anymore.

I'm _failing._

_Have you ever felt a weight on your shoulders that just won't go away?_ I have, and still deal with it. Is it wrong for me to say _I_ have feelings? My health is going down, my attitude is an act. I really have to wonder;

_Would anyone miss me if I disappeared?_

Natalia

The meeting was like any other. A boring day in a dully painted conference room; this time located in Paris. I cannot shake the unease I feel today though. Something is wrong, and I _will_ find out what it is.

The meeting consisted of the usual chaos. Although, recently I have started to distance myself from Brother Ivan. I believe I have made it clear; that although I love him, I no longer want anything to do with him. He will always be my brother, but I consider it childish now as to how much I had actually _believed_ that there was more. I am no longer attached to the USSR and I intend to carry myself from now on. I have America to thank for that change in preferences.

You see, that annoying, loud-mouthed goofball had helped me during the 'cold war'. Although, at this point my government is in a state of change, I am no longer a dictatorship that is attached to the USSR. I _finally_, rule myself. I don't have to answer to anyone, and make my own choices. I owe America a large dept.

It was now that time in the meeting when all the 'Super powers' give a small speech as to what plans they have for their future economic and various other plans. I tended not to listen to them. It was just out of habit, really, but this time I felt it would be a good choice to care.

England went first, as always. Then followed by the regulars. But when it came to the time America had to deliver his speech, he didn't even seem to be listening to anything. I had to try my best not to glare too hard in his general direction. He just sat in his black leather chair, dressed in a white dress shirt, (that for some reason looked too large on his frame) and looking into nothing more then the bottom of an empty coffee cup. And I must say, I detest coffee; but that's besides the point. For some reason, this man, this large country; looked small. He looked pitiful, nothing of what I remembered. _Not that I really care, that is._

"America! Really? What the bloody hell is wrong with you? Do you have something to say or _not?_" the ever angry brit exclaimed as he hollered across the table at his former colony.

The American looked up from his coffee cup, and smiled widely. "Oh?" he began in an overly 'happy' tone. "Sorry about that, anyways what was I going to say..." he then started to look through a pile of papers in a folder before him.

I watched him, _intently_. Something was wrong. The way this 'proud' man moved was awkward and clumsy. His skin seemed to have become more pale, not as pale as mine but none the less different then his regular tanned tone. He was still muscular, but something was off. The dark circles under his eyes may have been one pointer, but something else was wrong.

I was just naturally observant amongst people. I know how to think ahead, and I like to believe that is one thing that makes me dangerous. It is a skill that takes time to perfect.

I listened to Alfred's speech. It was nothing, and I am not over exaggerating either. He merely said that he felt as though everything was going smoothly in his country and currently had no plans for the future months. But from the way his voice shook every once in a while, it made me wonder just how fine _he_ was. There was definitely, something wrong.

Now, I don't consider myself a compassionate person of any sorts. But, instead I'd like to call it curiosity that is forcing me to find out just what is wrong. At one time I had despised this man just as must as Brother Ivan does. But I'm no longer obligated to think like that. So call it in my nature; to be curious of new things.

After the conference was over and adjourned to the next day, I figured it would be a good chance to figure out what was going on. So, when I saw the American leaving through the front doors; I'd said goodbye to my sister and walked out behind him. I followed behind him along the small sidewalk to a small French coffee house. He stepped inside and sat down at one of the vacant tables that just so happened to have one other seat.

In my case, I never liked to act as a spy or something ridiculous. But instead just ask my question. So, ever being the bold Belarusian, I just simply walked inside the coffee house and took the seat in front of him and lightly tapped my foot to get his attention.

He looked up to me, and instantly a fake smile bursted upon his features. "How ya' doin' Natalia?"

I crossed my arms over my chest. "What is wrong with you?" I asked strait out.

"I'm sure I don-."

"Please spare me the excuses. You do recall that I had lived in America with you for a while when you had given me refuge, da? I do have to say, I know when your faking." my words sounded harsh.

The look of shock on his face was strange, and when a waitress placed a cup in front of him she gave me a strange look; which I returned with a rather fierce glare that had ended up sending her running off to another customer.

"Do not play games with me Alfred." I warned. "I'm not stupid." I leaned forward and grabbed at his shirts shoulder that slightly fell off his frame. "What is wrong?" I asked as I tugged at it.

His blue eyes seemed to falter, and he left my gaze to look into the black liquid now resting in his hands. "You wouldn't understand Natalia. It's best if you just don't care about me."

"Nyet, I do not care. I am merely curious, and owe you respect for helping me in a time of need...and at this point, I'd like to consider you a _friend._" my voice came out rather soft this time; I was going to try and offer a smile, but I know it would have looked a little too fake.

The look on Alfred's face was different. He didn't look happy, or bright. He simply looked like any other in this world of ours. Tired.

Several minutes passed as Alfred just seemed to stare into nothing. It honestly made me want to take my knife out and slice that damned coffee cup to pieces, but somehow I managed to wait. I began to lightly bounce my right leg out of impatience.

I don't know what was going through his mind, but when I was about to speak up once more I froze. I watched silently as a single tear escaped the eye of this now seemingly broken man. He didn't even look at me, but instead continued to stare into the now cooling liquid. His eyes where distant, as if locked in a memory.

But then I remembered something. No one ever has seen America cry. No one has ever seen him like this, perhaps England when he was younger, but no one as an adult. He looked absolutely worthless, and _that_ was a word one rarely heard compared to America.

"Alfred?" I spoke, trying to catch his attention.

He sighed without looked to me. He hadn't even sipped his coffee when he set it down on the table as he began to stand up. He awkwardly pushed his hands into the pockets of his tan pants.

"I don't expect you to understand." he spoke. "But I think it's about time someone understands that there is always more to a person than what they show."

He began to walk out of the shop, without looking back at me. I found this strange, he left the conversation open. So, I decided to follow him once more. But this time, I did not follow behind him. Instead I caught up to him, and walked close enough that my shoulder brushed his arm.

"I do not give up easily, dear Alfred." I spoke.

There was a slight wind and I felt it blowing my hair slightly, and when I looked up to Alfred's face I also saw his own golden blonde locks shuffling and moving about atop his head. Alfred happened to be about a head taller than I, but this has never stopped me from getting my point across.

"I don't expect you to." he replied as he began to unbutton and roll up the sleeves to his dress shirt as we now entered into a quiet park that followed a slow creek.

I looked to his arms. I've known the feeling of a blade, I used to find it interesting how for some reason; as immortal as we are, we still obtain scars. And as I looked at his arms I saw similar scars.

He led me off the path that ran through the trees. Instead we went closer to the creek where a wooden bench had been placed. He sat down and stretched out his rather long legs. And I, sat down beside him taking his arm into my hand. My body temperature was always colder than his, and it fascinated me just how warm he was. But this time I was focused on just how many scars that where streaked up his arm.

I looked to his face, and saw the disgusted expression that I had so often worn. Seeing this, I began to pull up my own sleeves to show him, without even speaking and moved my own slashed wrists beside his.

"Not everything is as it seems." I spoke. "I know you are not stupid Alfred. It is apart of us to have some human problems. I know this well enough. Do not think you are alone."

I took his hands in mine, and felt the temperature adjust. His hands lightly shook, and then I felt him beside me as our bodies seemed to just click into each other.

"It is not in my nature to be caring." I was being carful with my choice in words. "I consider myself a violent and heartless person. But I accept that about myself."

Once more I looked up to his sky blue eyes shielded by glasses. "However, I am _not_ a weak person. And neither are _you._" He seemed to be relaxing sitting beside me. "My shield is a glare. Yours, is a smile. If you give that up you will be what _they_ make you. And you will disappoint _me._"

It was now that I wanted to hear him speak. I wanted to hear that accent of his flow from his lips and try to make sense of everything that had just happened. In fact, after the time I had spent in America, I most of all wanted to hear his Texan accent. It may have been something, that at the time had surprised me when he had randomly come out and it spilled from his pale lips.

Alfred lightly shook his head lightly, as if taking in everything that was said.

Alfred

I was honestly thankful, that of all people it was Belarus aka Natalia had noticed something wrong with me. If it had been Arthur, I think I would have actually died out of embarrassment. But from what Natalia was saying to me, it made me think; about all the bad things, and the few good things that would spring into my mind. I admit, lately I've been quite negative when it comes to personality and attitude.

Sometime when things happen, particularly _bad_ things; I tend to blame myself, even if I was not directly involved. I still believe there was something _I_ could have done to prevent it. Whether it was Arthur catching one of his yearly colds, or even the start of World War One (which I actually had nothing to do with, whatsoever). I'm just entirely, blaming myself for everything wrong with the world.

At the time that I had taken Natalia in, it was because she was a nation splitting away from the USSR. I needed all the allies I could get. Belarus at the time and still is, an agricultural based country, but nonetheless _strong. _She had been pretty beaten up, and hardly knew any English. So when I had talked her into staying in my country while I helped her, I was able to teach her enough English that she could now speak it fluently.

However, just getting her to listen to me took a while. She has a glare that could freeze anyone in their tracks. It was a trait that seemed to fit her well. Every time I would look at her, or smile; I'd receive that infamous _glare._ But it gave me a challenge, so over time I was able to get to know her a bit better. And then one day, we just talked. It wasn't even a special conversation on anything particular; but it was the first time that we had begun to see eye to eye. It was then that I realized, I really do like her company.

Seeing the scars on Natalia's arms were surprising. _Perhaps that's why she only ever wears long sleeves?_ I did not expect to see them on her. She was tiny, but far from fragile. So to see those elegant hands marred with the scars of previous encounters with a knife really was something to question. However, I've learned that sometimes it's best to keep those types of questions to oneself.

I kept staring at our arms beside each other; first noticing the cuts. Then seeing the difference in our skin tones. She was a pale white, reminding me of the snow I see whenever I visit Alaska. While mine, happened to be a tanned golden color from all the time I've spent in the sun.

I was getting more an more conservative of my image lately. It didn't matter what it was, I was picky. I'm starting to believe what everyone says about me. _Am I really fat?_ Am I really pathetic enough to start caring what other people think? I guess I am, cause it's obviously affected me. And as far as cutting goes; I'd tried it once when I was being yelled at by Arthur and Yao. Arthur had been telling me to be more responsible, while Yao was just screaming at me cause I haven't paid him back yet. I'd kept trying to explain I had it coming, but neither of them believed me. It ended with Yao fuming and Arthur staying behind to continue giving me a lecture.

The one and only thing that I pretend to face, is disappointing Arthur. It may be because of him at one point being my mentor, and although I'm 'independent' now, I still can't bear the thought of disappointing Arthur. And that's exactly what he'd said to me. "You're a _disappointment_ to me." or something like that, it may be my mind twisting things up on me. But nonetheless, once he'd left I secluded myself in my room and let the tears just fall and continue to the point of literally feeling sick from the kept in emotions. I'd found a comb with a couple of sharp bristles on the end, and without even looking; I'd raked it across my arm without even thinking strait. But for some reason, the pain I felt in my arm distracted me from the pain in my chest. It _helped._

Of course I would never tell anyone this...that is until now. I'd shown Natalia my scars. I'd shown her my largest insecurity and expected the worst. But, I was wrong. I'm in every way thankful that it was her that saw this change in me.

Hearing her speak did relax me a little. I liked her accent, it was different and unique to me. But, she had spoken everything I had wanted to hear, but also everything I was afraid to hear. It was actually taking all I had in me to keep in the tears the threatened to spill over. I didn't want her to think I was weak, and clearly she didn't want to think of me that way either.

"Alfred?" she asked, and I looked into her violet-blue eyes, and hadn't noticed the blurring of my vision caused by the tears.

"I-I'm sorry." I said quickly as I hurried to wipe away the tears before they began to overflow. Or else, they wouldn't have stopped.

She didn't look at me with pity. And instead of doing something against her character, she simply took my hand in hers, and we sat quietly on the bench. No more word's needed to be said, she could see everything I could ever try to hide. I was like an open book to her. While someone might fear this, for once in my life I had someone that understood something I was going through. I knew my hand was shaking slightly, but it really didn't bother me that she held it regardless.

And, arrogant as it might sound. _I don't think it bothered her either._

**Authors notes**

**-Alfred is suffering from (not quite) major depression.**

**-He is insecure with everything about himself**

**-Instead of resulting to eating more, he is starving himself, while STILL 'working out'.**

**-He blames himself for everything bad that has happened in the world, and is no longer confident in himself and has begun to believe the insults that he receives.**

**-If England ever found out about Alfred's depression, it may push him a little too far. (He can no longer deal with being yelled at or pressure)**

**-During the cold war, Belarus had asked for America's help**.** Therefore, Belarus/Natalia would have spent a lot of time in America.**

**-When Natalia had asked for help, it was partly because she was becoming afraid of Ivan. (Due to being afraid, she had cut)**

**-Natalia still suffers from minor depression, but is willing to help Alfred with his.**

_(It WON'T be depressing for ever! Lol, it's just going to take them both time.)_


End file.
